


Apologies for Eternity

by Starr_Reborn



Category: Adventure Time
Genre: Alternate Universe - Future, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/F, Marcy looks like her mother, Music, maybe some chuckles, mostly dumb shit, probably angst, seriously it's stupid, tons of music, you're so welcome
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-15
Updated: 2016-09-08
Packaged: 2018-07-24 02:15:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7489419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Starr_Reborn/pseuds/Starr_Reborn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On a sunny day, Marceline never lost her parasol. </p><p>On a day without a dark cloud, a kingdom didn't band together. </p><p>In a timeline where Stakes never came to pass, everything changes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> songs are "Brave as a Noun" and "The Killing Type"
> 
>  
> 
> This idea is dumb and i don't know where I'm going with it. Enjoy!

This bar was a total shit show. It stunk always of cigarettes and piss. It was loud and the sound system was ancient and decrepit such that the music always fuzzed out of the speakers mounted to the walls. Of the two bartenders, only one of them was worth anything unless you were just so lucky enough to be of the male persuasion. As it turned out, she wasn't so lucky.

"I swear to Glob," Bonnie hissed, glaring at the female bartender - Kate was her name, Bonnie remembered it mostly because it rhymed with hate - "If that dink puts on anymore chapstick..."

"You know how it is for her BonBon," Fionna cut in, taking a swig from her bottle of Red Stripe. "She sucks so much tip for tips, she can't help her chapped lips!" A laugh clawed its way out of her throat without her permission, her glare dropping into a softer, amused expression as she turned to face her blonde companion

"I suppose that's true, but darnit, Jack just left for the toilet or something, I just want a lumping Shiner, and Kate's trying harder than anything to suck more pricks into her vacuous cavern of a face than she usually does and if she won't do her job I swear I'll flip my lid and finally deck her!"

"Dude it's chill I understand. But like, Jacko is backo so you shouldn't be so fierce," she gestured with a nod of her blonde head to a space over Bonnie's shoulder and when she turned to check it, lo and behold there was the bartender in question, holding the door open for-

"Oh man, who is that?"

Fionna might fall out of her barstool if she leaned any farther forward to squint at the woman chatting up their favorite bartender. She was tall and willowy, skin the color of hot cocoa. As she spoke, the Christmas lights forever strung over the door and two front windows glittered off of piercings decorating the flesh of her visible ear, one of her brows, her lips. The bright red bass slung across her back was matched by the tattered red converse adorning her feet. Ripped jeans and a gray tank top that showed every inch of her tattooed arms.

She laughed at something Jack said, tossing back her head and with it her impressive mane of inky tresses. Thick and wild, it fell down her back in waves of black that ended just above her tail bone. When she turned to survey the bar, Bonnie finally discerned her eyes to be a vibrant glowing green. 

Her mouth clicked shut - when had it fallen open? - and she turned, huffy, back to the bar. Kate was close by, eyeing the stranger. Bonnie cleared her throat loudly,

"Excuse me!" Kate's expression told a story of great suffering. Oh, woe was her that she had to do her damn job. Lumping lazy butt. Glob, Bonnie hated her so much.

"What do you want."

_This dinkus._

"A better bartender. Oh no, looks like Jack is busy. How bout you give me one of those Prickly Pear's instead?" Her smile was incredibly sweet. Kate seemed to find it tasted like garbage, judging by the scowl she wore. But the money Bonnie was holding up was hard to argue with. What was worse was when the girl slammed her drink down, foam spilling out of the mouth of the bottle.

"Thanks," she sneered.

"You're welcome," _I will end you, worthless scum._

"Yo Bonnie, I think Hotty McMysterychick is gonna play some tunes!" She didn't want to look. She tried to resist the urge. Unbidden, her neck turned and she gazed upon the woman with Jack by the tiny stage in the back right corner of the bar. She was sitting on the edge of it, chatting with the kindly man while three other people filed onstage, setting up equipment.

"Marcy," Bonnie muttered, tipping her beer back. Her hand was wet with foamy residue that she was waiting to turn tacky. Fiona was looking to her, brows furrowed in confusion, mouth open to question her before she continued, "Her name is Marceline."

* * *

"What's up?" She almost jumped at the hollow, echoing buzz of her voice fuzzing through the shitty speakers this undeniably shitty bar was equipped with. A grumbling murmur of sound greeted her nearly-rhetorical question to the crowd. "My friends call me Marcy. So you all can just call me 'Oh My Glob' or 'Holy Math, Encore!' and that'll do just fine."

Plenty of chuckles. Was always best when the crowd responded. A crowd sober enough to react was a crowd worth her time. Admittedly, her time was endless and a crowd of unresponsive zombies wouldn't be even a blink in her vast existence, but regardless she would always love a crowd ready and willing to hear and possibly enjoy her music.

Or in this instance, the music she paid homage to.

"This next song is. Well it's just a damn good song. It's by Andrew Jackson Jihad. Check 'im out." She turned to her band, exchanged a few soft words, then began, with a few hard strung chords and three taps against the body of her bass,

" ** _I could go off the deep end_**

**_I could kill all my best friends_ **

**_I could follow those stylish trends_ **

**_And God knows I could make amends_** "

Marceline. It was lumping Marceline. Of all people. She wanted to grab Jack by the shoulders and shake him until his head lolled about uncontrollably on his neck. She wasn't terribly different from the last time they'd met. Except with more metal in her skin, also more ink, and a hair cut.

" _ **But I've got an angry heart**_

_**Filled with cancers and poppy tarts** _

_**If this is how you folks make art** _

_**It's fucking depressing**_ "

This should be illegal. After so many thousands of years, a rule should have been made concerning the vampire queen and her charms. Most especially concerning her voice and her talent with that thrice damned bass guitar

" _ **And it's sad to know**_

_**That we are not alone** _

_**And it's sad to know** _

_**There's no honest way out**_ "

She delved into a brief but terribly impressive breakdown for a good half minute or so, hopping about the stage with the biggest grin, a grin she shared with her bandmates but most especially with the lead guitarist. This breakdown ended with well timed slaps against the body of her bass, mirrored by the guitarist before they went back into the song.

" _ **I'm afraid to leave the house**_

_**I'm as timid as a mouse** _

_**I'm afraid if I go out** _

_**I'll outwear my welcome**_ "

She seemed lost in the music, abandoning her bass to grip the microphone with both hands, pulling it closer, eyes squeezing shut as she rocked and swayed along with the delightfully upbeat song,

" _ **I am not a courageous woman**_

_**I don't have any big, lasting plans** _

_**I'm too cowardly to take a stand** _

_**I wanna keep my nose clean**_ "

Bonnie wondered, watching intensely though she tried not to, if the way she swiped at the tip of her nose with a knuckle was a conscious effort or a result of the lyric. She wondered also why this was so mesmerising when she knew the woman wasn't using any of her latent, hard-earned abilities.

" _ **And** **it's sad to know**_

_**That we're not alone in this** _

_**And it's sad to know** _

_**There's no honest way out** _

_**In this life we lead** _

_**We can conquer everything** _

_**If we could just get the braves** _

_**To get out of bed in the morning**_ "

"Oh my Glob," Fionna gasped, staring in wide-eyed awe at the four people - well, ghost, shape shifter, and two vampires - up on the stage, high-fiving each other and sending short waves and bobs of the head to the cheering of the half-drunken crowd. "Holy math, ENCORE!" Marceline chuckled into the mic as she pulled it close to her grinning mouth again.

"Thanks y'all! Now that we've really got your attention, let's send a shout out to the rest of the band, eh?"

Cheers and hoots, sharp whistles and calls for more music; Marceline waved them off and bowed, gesturing grandly to her bandmates to convince them to provide their own introductions. She took the time to take a peek through her curtain of hair towards the bar. A grin twitched her mouth upwards, sharp canines gleaming in the dim lighting that made this back area so unfriendly to all but the drunkest bar patrons.

Somebody was happier to see her than they wanted to be. And that just left a sugary sweet taste in her mouth she was rather partial to. She was half tempted to make her way over and express how happy she was too. She did get a feeling, however, that her affections would not be appreciated.

"Yo Marcy, you gonna get your ass back over to the mic and continue to blow these people away or just make bedroom eyes at the bartender?"

A bark of laughter was her response as she shook herself from the moment. That bartender stunk of fish and sweat. Even if she was pretty, she had nothing on the woman that, a few thousand years ago, had been princess of a sprawling, prospering kingdom. The woman still so lovely and pink, who smelled like decadent cakes and fang-achingly sweet candies.

The woman she'd all but abandoned when despair struck in the crash and burn of her kingdom at the hands of a crazed wax king. Princess King. Whatever. She could only hope the ex-royal still cultivated a huge weakness for her rockin' tunes. Although she supposed the fact the woman didn't leave the second Marceline walked in the door was a smallhuge blessing in and of itself

"You losers liked that first song, eh?" Complaints for more music and booing in jest ensued, she laughed, grinning at them all as wide as she could. "Told you it was good. But this next song is fucking great, and I'd like to dedicate it to the beautiful woman at the bar." A saucy wink sent in that direction got a smirk from the (unimportant) bartender, slack-jawed amazement from the blonde that had to be the great great great great great great great great great grand something-or-other of Finn, and wide pink eyes that couldn't decide between horrified, embarrassed, or grudgingly interested.

She turned to her band, telling them what song she had in mind. Ignoring the grin Keila was sending her way, one that was entirely too pleased. The same grin she'd been wearing since Marceline had told them they'd be performing at this shitty no name bar. Just cause. 'For an old friend,' had been her excuse. It was almost unfortunate Keila knew her so well. Knew that look in her eye. Knew how to say nothing and still get under her skin in the worst ways.

* * *

"Oh my Glob, I thought maybe you'd heard the band before," Fionna was staring. Hard. Had been since that little announcement and Bonnie was staring at her fingers, peeling back the edge of the label. Anything to not watch the woman on stage. "But you know her!"

"I don't," she grumbled, still unable to meet her eyes. "You were right with the first thought. Used to listen to them back in the day." Listen, manage, whatever.

"You lying butt! You so do, she's literally singing to you right now! Look!"

"I'm aware," she replied lightly. Unable to resist glancing up to the stage. The green eyed beauty with a mouth full of razors.

" _ **I'm not the killing type**_

_**I'm not the killing type** _

_**I'm not, I'm not** _

_**I'm not the killing type, I'm not** _

_**But I would kill to make you feel** _

_**I'd kill to move your face an inch** _

_**I see you staring into space** _

_**I wanna stick my fist into your mouth** _

_**And twist your Arctic heart**_ "

"That's so romantic," Fionna sighed with longing, stars practically shining in her eyes. Bonnie stared at her incredulously.

"She just called me cold-hearted," And she'd killed her fair share of people. (Ok so that was mostly vampires, and thousands of years ago, what-the-lump-ever.)

"She's saying that you're cold to her-" For GOOD reason, thank you very much. "-but she wants to warm you up. She wants to be able to make you feel emotion for her. You guys must have some intense history if she'd be willing to 'twist your arctic heart' just to get any sort of your passion, even if it's just your fury."

"... you don't even know her."

"Yeah but I know music," she shrugged, tipping back her nearly-forgotten beer for a hearty mouthful or two. "My sister sings to express most emotions. I mean, me too but within reason and without the public eye."

" ** _And I'm saying it now_**

**_I'm saying it so_ **

**_Even if you never hear this song_ **

**_Somebody else would know_ **

**_I'm saying it now_ **

**_I'm saying it so_ **

**_Even if you never hear this song_ **

**_Somebody else will know, know, know, know_ **

**_I just can't explain how good it feels_** "

She was looking right at Bonnie, repeating the last line a few times with a look that was far too intimate for their settings and situation. Bonnie frowned back, ignoring the warmth creeping into her cheeks. _WAY too old to be reacting like this. Way too old and entirely too smart._

"Hm. You can know as much about music as you want - I know _her._ " Bonnie informed her as Marceline finished the song with one last murmur into the mic.

"You used to," Fionna countered, clapping for the band but eyeing Bonnie seriously but without judgement. "You knew her once. People change."

She didn't know what to say to that. She opted for nothing and taking a gulp or four of her Shiner.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She was either brave or stupid.
> 
> ... She was betting on stupid, though.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Change Your Mind" but that's kinda obvious, yeah?

Someone had opened the back door, the one right in front of toilets. Too lazy to step outside, they stood in the doorway, drunk and swaying and smoking cigarettes. More people had packed inside. It was hot, getting claustrophobic. The stench was becoming unbearable.

But Bonnie was still there.

She and her pretty little friend had drifted out to the back patio when the crowd had started trickling in and getting progressively drunker. The only reason Marceline knew the ladies were both still here was the occasional whiff of candies and cakes that'd somehow drift through the sweat and smoke to tickle at her nose. It was tickling now. It was intoxicating.

Maybe she was getting a little drunk herself.

"Keila, Bongo, Guy," sweat was pouring from her brow - really every inch of her skin felt slick with sweat - and she was beginning to feel a bit drained, time to wrap this freebie up. "One last song. I'm being gross and mushy, deal with it."

Turning back to the crowd requesting more, more, MORE, she leaned forward and let her voice soften into a black velvet chuckle.

"Alright folks, I've got one last song for you tonight, think you can handle anymore of our brain melting talent?" So playing for drunk people was fun in its own right. There was shrieking and great howls and stomping feet on the dirty gray concrete covered in spilt beer and who knew what else. Black velvet slipped and a belly laugh burst from her, and also a howl of her own, "THAT'S WHAT I LIKE TO FUCKIN HEAR!"

Ok, so she might actually get the band touring again. She missed this. The rush, the sweat, the sounds, the smells. The faces in the crowd shining and screaming for everyone of the dear friends at her back, for _her._ Centuries upon centuries hadn't stopped humbling her every time she stepped onto a stage to the screaming of fans.

"This one goes out to that beautiful lady on the back patio. Those speakers are worthless, Sweets, try coming back inside." About eight ladies burst through the far patio door, two of them with cigarettes still in the hands. One of the others dropped her beer on the floor, spraying ankles with cheap booze and bits of broken glass.

"Whoops." She ignored Guy's obnoxious cackling, Keila's quiet ribbing, Bongo's rumbling guffaws and her own flushing cheeks. A glare and a word to Keila and she began coaxing notes out of her guitar, Marceline joining in with a steady bass when Bongo started tapping out a beat.

* * *

" _ **Racy days**_

_**Help me through the hopeless haze** _

_**But my, oh my**_ "

"Oh. MY. Glob!" She couldn't quite decide how to feel. Firstly, she was FURIOUS that Marceline was doing this again.

" _ **Tragic eyes**_

_**I can't even recognize myself behind** _

_**So if the answer is no** _

_**Can I change your mind?**_ "

Secondly, she was incredibly, IRRITATINGLY touched by the fact that Marceline was doing this again. She shouldn't be. She should be so far from ever feeling like this. She shouldn't be almost literally _dying_ to run in there with that crowd of miscreants and jump and bob and sweat and scream and watch Marceline watching her. Her fingers were drumming on the table uncontrollably. Anxious.

This was stupid. She was being stupid. Through her half-panic, she hears both Marceline crooning into the mic, and the sound of Fionna laughing at her expense.

"Dude, you're the absolute worst right now." The blonde reached over to pat her head. She couldn't decide if it was condescending or not. She decided it was and pushed it away with a grunt.

"Seriously, what HAPPENED here!?" She was waving her hands wildly at the propped open back door over Bonnie's shoulder. She didn't need to turn to see it, or the drunk hippy dude that worked at the pizza place across the street leaning against the doorjamb and keeping the door open, providing better sound than the speakers ever could. "Go put a ring on it!"

She'd never given Fionna such a dirty look, fortunately it drove the point home that this was NOT a conversation they were about to have right now. She held her hands up, placating,

"Whoa dude, was just a joke."

Bonnie sighed. Head _thunk_ ing onto the old wooden picnic table they sat at as she slumped forward.

"I know," she mumbled into the circle of her arms. "Sorry. Just..."

"Stuff?"

"Dumb stuff. She makes me stupid. I kind-of hate her. I kind-of missed her desperately and didn't really realize it until I saw her standing with Jack beneath the Christmas lights. I'm mad and confused and I don't know if I want to hug her or kick her in the neck!"

"That doesn't sound dumb. And no one can make you stupid-"

" _She_ can!"

"... would something stupid be going in there to watch her play this song _for you?_ "

"I haven't decided yet."

"Well let me know when you do."

" _ **We're all the same**_

_**And love is blind**_ "

See the problem was that she felt stupid for sitting out here.

" ** _The sun is gone_**

**_Before it shines_ **

**_And I said, if the answer is no_ **

**_Can I change your mind?_** "

She almost busted her head open on the brick wall behind her she shot up from the table so quickly. She only just made it into the doorway to catch Marceline's eye on her last query into the mic,

" ** _If the answer is no_**

**_Can I change your mind?_** "

In the wild cheers of bar patrons, Bonnie didn't bother trying to raise her voice, knowing it'd be lost in the cacophony. So she clapped politely, resisted a coy smile and mouthed the words, _Prove it._

She turned back with a very small, very pleased smile. Fionna was standing behind her with her arms crossed over her chest, wearing a very similar smile.

"What?"

Fionna shook her head,

"Mm, it's nothing."

_Nothing indeed._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Very short. I won't apologize. Fair thee well


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For being the Queen of Vampires, she sure did have all the emotional stability of a wet napkin.
> 
> Or maybe that was because she's Queen....?
> 
> Either way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here's dumb shit as promised! No music this visit, which like, fucking lame amirite? So for people that came for that promise, Marshall's uke was inspired by my deep, throbbing love for the song "Ukulele Anthem"
> 
>  
> 
> Enjoy this stupid, stupid stuff that i wrote on a whim. Every inch of every single one of everyone that made it this far is talented and beautiful. Go love yourself today.

"Yo bro bro!" If he wasn't already floating, he probably would have fallen or... well no probably not, not like he was that clumsy. He did fumble his uke a little though. Blowing the overgrown bangs he kept swearing he'd cut out of his face (and ignoring when they flopped right back down, a jagged curtain of black silk over his left eye), he offered a relaxed grin and bob of the head to his sister.

_Huh. Is she sweating right now?_

"Brosky! Brotato chaaap!" _She IS sweating right now._ "Abroham Lincoln! Brotron!"

"Dude, stop, seriously if I wasn't undead you'd be killin' me right now," he drifted closer, upside down and squinting at her for no other reason than the added drama to his scrutiny. "Somebody slip you some blood again?"

"Hah, haha, awww man nah but that's-that's funny," if the laugh had sounded any less forced it would have been her usual sarcasm. But this was far beyond that. She was genuinely trying to laugh. He righted himself in the air, drawing closer still to grip her shoulders, truly grim as he met her eyes.

"Has somebody hurt you, sis?"

"N-no! Dude what? I-" she broke off and away from him, in no particular order. Gripping fistfuls of her own wild mane and groaning. "Ok ok. Dude I'm freaking out!"

"But you're not hurt?"

"Nah man, I'm a centuries old vampire, and the Queen. You seriously think anything could touch me?"

"Absolutely-"

"Awww, who asked ya anyway!?" He didn't bother trying to hide his grin as he drifted up and away, strumming on his uke a bit.

"So you're freaking out?" He reminded when she started trying to hum along to whatever made up jingle he was playing. He almost felt bad when her serene smile dropped and she nodded sharply, pacing. Like, what the lump she never bothered with walking in the house. Neither of them did!

"Yeah man, like I got some crazy stress building up over it too," she ran a hand through her hair, then the other, then both. "I just, I did a thing and now three days later I'm starting to think that maybe I kinda regret that thing, ya know?"

"I guess?" He scratched at his head, squinting at her again. "I mean no promises but I might understand what you're saying maybe if you actually EXPLAINED it or, I dunno, genuinely told me what was wrong?" Her hands fell from her hair, she let her head fall back and a deep, soul suffering groan issue forth as she moved past his floating form, falling face first into his bed - which was as rock hard as their couch - and staying like that until she couldn't groan anymore. And then she muttered against the sheets,

"Ow."

"You brought that on yourself."

Her body slowly drifted upwards, until she was hovering just three feet above the bed, her unruly mane obscuring his view of her face.

"I called Keila and Guy and Bongo and we did a small show in a really shitty, super tiny bar," she admitted, head turning, one of her great pointed ears parting the waterfall of pitch so he could see one half-lidded green eye.

"And you regret getting the band together?"

"Well no, actually I was thinking about a nostalgia tour. Bein' on stage with them was seriously cool, brought back good memories. Plus you never were around when the Scream Queens were an operational force. You may be an annoying little gnat, but you're my annoying little gnat and I'd really love to share that part of my life with you."

"Eww are you trying to make me puke red?"

"Eh, only a little." They shared a sharp grin between them, a small chuckle. "No but I..." Without warning, her body flopped back to the highly uncomfortable bed. She mumbled something against the bedspread, something not so easily distinguishable as 'ow'.

"Dude my Muffled it's seriously rusty, throw a vamp some red here!" Her sigh was pretty distinguishable. Her head turned, a few strands of her hair displaced by a loud huff.

"I said, White Buffalo."

He dropped out of the air. The carpet was strewn with various band tees, so many pairs of ripped pants and flannels, plus probably a few ghouls and glob knew what else, and it was all this that broke his fall. His uke made a very displeased clang as it dropped from his numb fingers and hit the toe of a boot sticking out of the sea of debris. He was a vampire, had been for a few hundred years, but even he was surprised how quickly he next moved.

A blink, a tense breath and he was staring into green eyes that were first wide, then glaring up at him. He was gripping her shoulders tight, hands trembling.

"Are. Are you being serious?"

"I wouldn't say it if it wasn't real, bro bro." There's a particularly high amount of venom in the way she addresses him now. He flinches back, as if sunlight creeps out of her very pores to sear his flesh. He's caught somewhere between thinking his heart will start beating just in time for a heart attack and the oddest urge of wanting to squeal. Unsure what to do, and frightened of the girlish urge, he dug his fangs into his lower lip until he tasted his own blood.

Which was decidedly old and bitter. Reminiscent of the smell of spoiled milk. He removed his fangs, drifting drifting back.

"Well," he said, once his back has hit the ceiling and they were mirroring each other, teeth bared and arms crossed but lacking malice. "That's. A thing."

"Yup!" A few rings of color - mostly yellow and red - were flashing through her eyes at random intervals. "I'm trying to make it a thing at least. Slipped her super cute friend my number and begged her to hand it over to the fine lady since I'm pretty sure she wouldn't take it from me."

"You don't know that."

"I mean, she kinda signaled that she's willing to give me a chance..." he blinked rapidly. Mouth dropping open. _That's great!_ he wanted to say. Nothing came forth. His sister turned on her side, curling into herself a bit. "I just. She didn't look happy to see me. I guess I'm. I'm waiting for a call or a text. Something."

Growling suddenly, her eyes screwed shut and she smacked her forehead hard with her palm, nails scraping through her hair, palm rooting in the tresses.

"It's so stupid! I've been doing this shit with that dork for thousands of years! I'm not supposed to be this- I shouldn't still feel- it's not FAIR! I feel like I'm going to cry and I want to rip my eyes out but I know they'd just heal!"

Indeed when she pulled her arm away from her face, hair well beyond saving, her eyes were glossy. A smear of blood on her lip from where her fangs were still digging deep into her mouth. A frustrated noise rumbled in her chest, she swallowed thickly and shut her eyes, rolling onto her back and stretching her limbs back out, except throwing an arm over her face.

"I missed her. I bailed on her the last time we were getting close. Not on purpose-"

"Dude stop," he'd drifted closer, pulling her arm down to look her in her miserable face. "Stop it. You can't keep doing this. I get it, you regret what happened. She's a dink-"

"You're a dink."

"-for being mad still over shit from a thousand years ago."

"I mean she has her reasons, it's totally fair."

He scoffed at her, rolling his eyes. She could be such a mope.

"Give her time-"

"THREE DAYS DUDE! I think there are like, unspoken rules about this stuff. Are there?"

"I dunno-"

"There definitely are," he sighed, tuning out her near-manic chatter and drifting away, over to his poor abused uke. Murmuring apologies and pressing a kiss to the body.

"Hey!" She broke off, taking a deep gasp of a heaving breath. Head swinging about to face her bother, fingers poised to pluck at the strings of his ukulele.

"Err, yeah?"

"So she had a cute friend...?"


End file.
